I did some things in 2011 I'm not proud of.
Guilt and I became good friends in 2011. He kept me company at night, whispering to me about who I was. He told me I was beyond repair. He told me I had become completely worthless. He told me no one would ever want me because of my mess-ups. He told me I was merely a victim: I was helpless against my past, and all I could do was curl up in a ball at night, feeling physically sick, feeling empty, feeling guilty. He told me my only option was to be a slave to him and Shame. And worst of all, he told me, God's sick of giving you another chance...so don't even try that again.
Fortunately, before 2011 rolled to a close, Guilt lost. Grace won.
Because here's the truth of the matter.
"He forgives all my sins and heals all my diseases." -Psalm 103:3
"Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow." -Psalm 51:7
"He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon Him, and by His wounds we are healed. We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; and the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all." -Isaiah 53:5-6
"For He has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son He loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins." -Colossians 1:13-14
"For it is by grace you have been saved..." -Ephesians 2:8a
Guilt lied.
Everything I did in 2011...Jesus signed His Name to. And destroyed.
So here's the miracle, beyond even forgiveness of sins: He didn't stop there.
What I broke, He remade.
What I gave away, He gave back, whole and complete.
When I felt worthless, He reminded me of the fact I spoke of in my last post: Jesus died my soul to save. God gave up His life for me, and I discount my worth??
When Guilt tried to barge back in and tell me I would be unwanted, Jesus fought him for me, declaring that He Himself will be my worth. Creator God is my Worth?? Oh yes...without Him, I would be nothing, and I am very happy about that fact. Because now I will be wanted by those who want Him.
When I thought I had to be a slave, He told me, Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. There is victory. I am not powerless! I have the power of the Cross to call upon, the power of His love for me -- I can ask Him to come fight for me.
He tells me I am pure. He tells me I am new. He tells me I am complete.
And He makes it so.
Yes, 2011 was a year of messing up. But I will not remember it as such. I will remember it as a year of the most extravagant grace imaginable. I will remember it as a year of experiencing the Cross afresh. I will remember Him...
Guilt is gone -- banished by the life-giving words of my Beloved. Shame cowers in the corner when I remind him that he has no authority in my life, and I have no obligation to listen to him, because I have a new Master whose Name is Love.
And Regret? Because of mercy, because of grace, because of Jesus...my greatest regret of 2011 is cutting my hair before Prom.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Thursday, December 22, 2011
The Gospel
This morning I woke up. As usual.
No. Not as usual. There was something different about this morning. Something was pressing heavily on my heart, trying to make its way in. I tried to shake it off. It was the oddest feeling. I was missing something...something important.
I felt distant, disconnected. Alone. I could barely breathe.
I stumbled down the ladder from my bed and got on the floor, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I was just tired. That had to be it.
Then, through a series of events, videos, songs, thoughts, verses...the Gospel finally pressed itself in, in full force, with all the breathtaking power that is contained within.
I wrote a very long post about the Gospel. And then I deleted it. Not because it shouldn't be told, again and again and again...but because the only line Jesus had pounding through my mind was the following:
Jesus died my soul to save.
Can I repeat it?
Jesus died my soul to save.
God died.
To save me.
To save you.
Death could not keep Him down. And it cannot keep me down, for I have been given the power of the Gospel through Christ Jesus. He has won...and He is allowing me to partake in the victory. He wants to pour a little of it through my life every day.
This morning I was taken to the Cross as though for the first time.
That is my prayer for you.
Abundant joy. Abundant peace. Abundant life. Abundant freedom.
They are all found at the dust at the foot of the Cross.
Jesus died my soul to save.
And yet He lives.
No. Not as usual. There was something different about this morning. Something was pressing heavily on my heart, trying to make its way in. I tried to shake it off. It was the oddest feeling. I was missing something...something important.
I felt distant, disconnected. Alone. I could barely breathe.
I stumbled down the ladder from my bed and got on the floor, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I was just tired. That had to be it.
Then, through a series of events, videos, songs, thoughts, verses...the Gospel finally pressed itself in, in full force, with all the breathtaking power that is contained within.
I wrote a very long post about the Gospel. And then I deleted it. Not because it shouldn't be told, again and again and again...but because the only line Jesus had pounding through my mind was the following:
Jesus died my soul to save.
Can I repeat it?
Jesus died my soul to save.
God died.
To save me.
To save you.
Death could not keep Him down. And it cannot keep me down, for I have been given the power of the Gospel through Christ Jesus. He has won...and He is allowing me to partake in the victory. He wants to pour a little of it through my life every day.
This morning I was taken to the Cross as though for the first time.
That is my prayer for you.
Abundant joy. Abundant peace. Abundant life. Abundant freedom.
They are all found at the dust at the foot of the Cross.
Jesus died my soul to save.
And yet He lives.
Friday, December 16, 2011
What If?
"That's just the way guys are."
I used to laugh sadly and nod my head in agreement whenever a fellow female would say this...
...until I heard a guy echo it. "That's just the way guys are," he said, and I felt my heart catch in my throat. Do you really believe that? my heart was screaming in protest. Have you really given in? Have you really become no more than what we've said you are? Have you really given up on ever being any better?
I no longer laugh at that statement, no matter who says it.
"Guys are only good for carrying things," we joke. "They'll never grow up," young women assert as they toss their hair and revel in their superiority. "Pigs, all of them," we say with a turned-up nose. And you know what they say: "They're only after one thing..."
And even as we mock them, something inside us dies: The dream of ever finding a man who will protect us, cherish us, and just love us.
"That's just the way they are," we sigh, and determine to move on and find a guy who's at least not as immature and piggish. We can never hope for any more.
And apparently, guys have started to agree. We have put them down, time and time again, and now they are convinced they can never rise above "the way they are." They have resigned themselves to defeat without ever putting up a fight -- because all the girls around them are telling them that they can never win.
Please, let me tell you something.
They can win.
Gentlemen: You can win.
"His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness..." (2 Peter 1:3).
Does an attitude of combined strength and tenderness come easily to a man? Is he born with complete control over his thought life? Is warrior-poet manhood something that comes naturally to anyone?
Probably not.
"Oh Kendall," you say, "you're telling guys to deny their nature and be something they're not!"
Absolutely.
"If anyone would come after Me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow Me" (Luke 9:23).
There may be a "way guys are"...before the Christ-life invades. Before Jesus completely rebuilds a man in His image. And guess what, ladies...we're just as bad.
No one, man or woman, was meant to stay the same after encountering Christ.
Does this mean a guy will suddenly become Prince Charming after meeting Jesus? Of course not. But he need no longer be a slave to who he was before.
However, we've painted a picture. We tell young men that they're in chains: the chains of modern manhood. They can't escape it. It's their nature. We graphically describe these chains, cutting men down and entrapping them in chains that no longer exist. They're not there! Jesus destroyed those chains! But even those who want to be different think it impossible.
And instead of coming alongside them and telling them that they have the power of the Living God to be a new creation and a Christ-built man, young women perpetuate the cycle. Instead of declaring freedom, we still see them as being bound by their nonexistent chains. Instead of encouraging them to get up, to walk away from a former way of life and become all that God intended, we tell them to just be the best chain-wearin' man there ever was.
I look back and think to myself, What on earth have I been doing?
What if we stopped cutting them down?
What if we stopped putting them in the world's box when they don't have to be of this world?
Sisters...what if we realized that guys don't need our criticism; they need our grace?
What if instead of talking about the way guys are, we talked about the way they could be? What if we put aside our own selfish desires for acceptance and went out of our way to protect the hearts and minds of the guys around us? What if, every time somebody made a demeaning comment about manhood, we responded with, "I don't believe it has to be like that"?
What if instead of flirting, we encouraged?
What if, instead of showing guys their chains, we showed them their Savior?
What if, instead of complaining about their one-track mind, our conversation was such that the track their minds land upon is Jesus Christ, and Him crucified?
What if we stopped looking for a boyfriend and started being a true friend?
What if we sacrificed of our time and spent hours on our knees praying true men into being?
What if we made it clear that we're fighting alongside them?
Do you think they'd start fighting, too?
"For the grace of God that brings salvation has appeared to all men. It teaches us to say 'No' to ungodliness and worldly passions and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age." -Titus 2:11-12
I used to laugh sadly and nod my head in agreement whenever a fellow female would say this...
...until I heard a guy echo it. "That's just the way guys are," he said, and I felt my heart catch in my throat. Do you really believe that? my heart was screaming in protest. Have you really given in? Have you really become no more than what we've said you are? Have you really given up on ever being any better?
I no longer laugh at that statement, no matter who says it.
"Guys are only good for carrying things," we joke. "They'll never grow up," young women assert as they toss their hair and revel in their superiority. "Pigs, all of them," we say with a turned-up nose. And you know what they say: "They're only after one thing..."
And even as we mock them, something inside us dies: The dream of ever finding a man who will protect us, cherish us, and just love us.
"That's just the way they are," we sigh, and determine to move on and find a guy who's at least not as immature and piggish. We can never hope for any more.
And apparently, guys have started to agree. We have put them down, time and time again, and now they are convinced they can never rise above "the way they are." They have resigned themselves to defeat without ever putting up a fight -- because all the girls around them are telling them that they can never win.
Please, let me tell you something.
They can win.
Gentlemen: You can win.
"His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness..." (2 Peter 1:3).
Does an attitude of combined strength and tenderness come easily to a man? Is he born with complete control over his thought life? Is warrior-poet manhood something that comes naturally to anyone?
Probably not.
"Oh Kendall," you say, "you're telling guys to deny their nature and be something they're not!"
Absolutely.
"If anyone would come after Me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow Me" (Luke 9:23).
There may be a "way guys are"...before the Christ-life invades. Before Jesus completely rebuilds a man in His image. And guess what, ladies...we're just as bad.
No one, man or woman, was meant to stay the same after encountering Christ.
Does this mean a guy will suddenly become Prince Charming after meeting Jesus? Of course not. But he need no longer be a slave to who he was before.
However, we've painted a picture. We tell young men that they're in chains: the chains of modern manhood. They can't escape it. It's their nature. We graphically describe these chains, cutting men down and entrapping them in chains that no longer exist. They're not there! Jesus destroyed those chains! But even those who want to be different think it impossible.
And instead of coming alongside them and telling them that they have the power of the Living God to be a new creation and a Christ-built man, young women perpetuate the cycle. Instead of declaring freedom, we still see them as being bound by their nonexistent chains. Instead of encouraging them to get up, to walk away from a former way of life and become all that God intended, we tell them to just be the best chain-wearin' man there ever was.
I look back and think to myself, What on earth have I been doing?
What if we stopped cutting them down?
What if we stopped putting them in the world's box when they don't have to be of this world?
Sisters...what if we realized that guys don't need our criticism; they need our grace?
What if instead of talking about the way guys are, we talked about the way they could be? What if we put aside our own selfish desires for acceptance and went out of our way to protect the hearts and minds of the guys around us? What if, every time somebody made a demeaning comment about manhood, we responded with, "I don't believe it has to be like that"?
What if instead of flirting, we encouraged?
What if, instead of showing guys their chains, we showed them their Savior?
What if, instead of complaining about their one-track mind, our conversation was such that the track their minds land upon is Jesus Christ, and Him crucified?
What if we stopped looking for a boyfriend and started being a true friend?
What if we sacrificed of our time and spent hours on our knees praying true men into being?
What if we made it clear that we're fighting alongside them?
Do you think they'd start fighting, too?
"For the grace of God that brings salvation has appeared to all men. It teaches us to say 'No' to ungodliness and worldly passions and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age." -Titus 2:11-12
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Pieces
The Lord speaks in mysterious ways...
About a week ago, I fell asleep praying about what I should get my roomie for Christmas. That night, I dreamed that I gave her Duplo building blocks. (Weird, I know.) When I woke up, I was convinced that was what I needed to get her. But alas, Target and Wal-Mart were lacking in plain Duplo blocks, so she ended up with something entirely different.
But I still felt that dream was divinely inspired. I thought, God, there must be something You want to show her, some lesson You want to teach her through those blocks! It would just be so great if I could find them!
Mm-mm. No. Jesus shook His head and said, "Yes, there's a lesson in those blocks...but it's for you."
Me?? Psh, what was I going to learn from Duplo blocks? My roomie is tons more creative than me; I thought surely she'd be able to understand it. But me, I could never get any meaning out of Duplo blocks. That's ridiculous.
Then the Lord led me to the song "Pieces," by Red.
I'm here again, a thousand miles away from You
A broken mess, just scattered pieces of who I am
I tried so hard, thought I could do this on my own
I've lost so much along the way
Then I see Your face
I know I'm finally Yours
I find everything I thought I'd lost before
You call my name
I come to You in pieces so You can make me whole
I've come undone, but You make sense of who I am
Like puzzle pieces in Your hand
I tried so hard, so hard
Then I see Your face
I know I'm finally Yours
I find everything I thought I'd lost before
You call my name
I come to You in pieces so You can make me whole
I'd listened to this song several times before it suddenly hit me. I don't want to call it a "vision," but that's almost what it was. An entire story flashed through my mind in a split second. It went something like this.
"What are we making, Daddy?" the little girl asked, trailing her fingers through the pile of colorful Duplo blocks.
"A special house," the Daddy replied. "It will be beautiful and perfect."
The little girl smiled. "When will it be done?"
"It will take a long time, and it will be hard," the Daddy said seriously. "Every single piece will have an important part, and we must make sure they are all in the right place. But it will be worth it."
The little girl frowned. "That doesn't sound very fun." She bit her lip and appeared to consider for a minute, then said hesitantly, "But I trust You, Daddy."
The little girl and the Daddy began building together. They built after His pattern for a while. But the little girl became impatient. "Daddy, I want this house done right now!" she insisted.
"It will not be as beautiful if we hurry it," the Daddy warned her. "We will not be able to follow My pattern."
"But I don't want to follow Your pattern!" she whined. "It's boring! I'll build this house on my own." And so saying, she threw herself over the unused Duplo blocks and pulled them away from her Daddy. "You come back in a while," she instructed Him, "and I'll surprise You with how purty it is." Sitting up proudly, she waved Him away, and began to build on her own.
With each passing day, the "house" looked less and less like a house. Pieces were lost, stolen by the neighbor boy, eaten by the dog, accidentally kicked under the couch. The little girl had not realized how much her Daddy had done to protect the pieces. But more importantly, the little girl did not know how to build on her own. She understood nothing of how to make a house, and she simply threw pieces haphazardly together, trying to make it "purty."
Finally, coming to work on her house one day, the little girl simply stopped and stared before bursting into tears. "This isn't a house," she said to herself. "It's just a big mess, and it's not purty, and I don't know how to fix it, especially because pieces are missing." She collapsed in a heap of little-girl skirts and little-girl tears, and began tearing down the house she was building.
When it was completely demolished, she went into the kitchen to find a tissue. Her Daddy was there. She jumped when she saw Him, and she hung her head, ashamed.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He asked tenderly. "How's your house?"
Her lip quivered as she tried to hold back a sob, but it burst forth anyway. "It's all in pieces," she said helplessly, opening her fist to reveal a handful of disconnected pieces.
The Daddy took His daughter in His arms. He held her and waited for her to calm down a bit before He said quietly, "We can start over."
The little girl shook her head. "Pieces are missing. It can't be what You wanted it to be. It will never be beautiful and perfect ever again, because I didn't guard the pieces, and You said every piece was important."
"You are right, we cannot build it the exact same way I wanted to, with the original pieces," the Daddy said. "But I have new pieces to replace the lost ones. It can still be just as perfect and beautiful."
The little girl looked at her Daddy, wide-eyed. "Really?"
He smiled and nodded. "Really. But this time, you have to follow My plan if you want it to turn out right. Otherwise we'll have to start all over again."
"I trust You," she said confidently. "And maybe there will be times when I don't, but You will help me, won't you?"
The Daddy took the pieces from His daughter's hand. "Always."
That vision meant something very specific to me, but it could apply to so many things. We have our own ideas about how to build a "house" -- whether it be a house of joy, purity, romance, happiness, success, whatever. We know what we want, we want it quickly, and we think God's plan is, frankly, a little boring.
But give it enough time, and we look at the thing we've created and realize it looks nothing like joy or purity or success at all. It looks like a mess. We tear it down in our frustration, and suddenly we have nothing but pieces. We think it can never look like what God intended.
But it can! Oh, Friend, it can.
"He who was seated on the throne said, 'I am making everything new!'" (Revelation 21:5a)
"It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners." (Mark 2:17)
Christ is in the business of restoring our messes to the way they were originally supposed to be. And when He does, we know it had to be all Him... We are far too prone to error to have built something so beautiful.
No matter how much we have messed up... we are never so far He cannot completely rebuild us in His perfect image. He came so that we could be restored -- not so that we could wallow in our sin. He came to pull us out from the pit -- not so that we could be "saved," but remain in that pit. He came to rewrite our stories, rebuild our houses, restore our brokenness. He came that we might have life, and we should not expect a second-rate version of life because we messed up. He's bigger than that. Leslie Ludy writes, "Once you have been restored by Him, you are clothed in His righteousness. You are entitled to all the benefits of His amazing kingdom. Your forgiveness is complete. Your sin is removed as far from you as the east is from the west. It is finished."
The things we thought we'd lost forever...He makes them new. The things we thought were broken beyond repair...He makes them new. The things we thought we would never be able to do over...He makes new. He makes all things new. He gives second chance after second chance after second chance. How He loves!!
"I find everything I thought I'd lost before... I come to You in pieces so You can make me whole."
Ah, the lessons one learns from Duplos.
About a week ago, I fell asleep praying about what I should get my roomie for Christmas. That night, I dreamed that I gave her Duplo building blocks. (Weird, I know.) When I woke up, I was convinced that was what I needed to get her. But alas, Target and Wal-Mart were lacking in plain Duplo blocks, so she ended up with something entirely different.
But I still felt that dream was divinely inspired. I thought, God, there must be something You want to show her, some lesson You want to teach her through those blocks! It would just be so great if I could find them!
Mm-mm. No. Jesus shook His head and said, "Yes, there's a lesson in those blocks...but it's for you."
Me?? Psh, what was I going to learn from Duplo blocks? My roomie is tons more creative than me; I thought surely she'd be able to understand it. But me, I could never get any meaning out of Duplo blocks. That's ridiculous.
Then the Lord led me to the song "Pieces," by Red.
I'm here again, a thousand miles away from You
A broken mess, just scattered pieces of who I am
I tried so hard, thought I could do this on my own
I've lost so much along the way
Then I see Your face
I know I'm finally Yours
I find everything I thought I'd lost before
You call my name
I come to You in pieces so You can make me whole
I've come undone, but You make sense of who I am
Like puzzle pieces in Your hand
I tried so hard, so hard
Then I see Your face
I know I'm finally Yours
I find everything I thought I'd lost before
You call my name
I come to You in pieces so You can make me whole
I'd listened to this song several times before it suddenly hit me. I don't want to call it a "vision," but that's almost what it was. An entire story flashed through my mind in a split second. It went something like this.
"What are we making, Daddy?" the little girl asked, trailing her fingers through the pile of colorful Duplo blocks.
"A special house," the Daddy replied. "It will be beautiful and perfect."
The little girl smiled. "When will it be done?"
"It will take a long time, and it will be hard," the Daddy said seriously. "Every single piece will have an important part, and we must make sure they are all in the right place. But it will be worth it."
The little girl frowned. "That doesn't sound very fun." She bit her lip and appeared to consider for a minute, then said hesitantly, "But I trust You, Daddy."
The little girl and the Daddy began building together. They built after His pattern for a while. But the little girl became impatient. "Daddy, I want this house done right now!" she insisted.
"It will not be as beautiful if we hurry it," the Daddy warned her. "We will not be able to follow My pattern."
"But I don't want to follow Your pattern!" she whined. "It's boring! I'll build this house on my own." And so saying, she threw herself over the unused Duplo blocks and pulled them away from her Daddy. "You come back in a while," she instructed Him, "and I'll surprise You with how purty it is." Sitting up proudly, she waved Him away, and began to build on her own.
With each passing day, the "house" looked less and less like a house. Pieces were lost, stolen by the neighbor boy, eaten by the dog, accidentally kicked under the couch. The little girl had not realized how much her Daddy had done to protect the pieces. But more importantly, the little girl did not know how to build on her own. She understood nothing of how to make a house, and she simply threw pieces haphazardly together, trying to make it "purty."
Finally, coming to work on her house one day, the little girl simply stopped and stared before bursting into tears. "This isn't a house," she said to herself. "It's just a big mess, and it's not purty, and I don't know how to fix it, especially because pieces are missing." She collapsed in a heap of little-girl skirts and little-girl tears, and began tearing down the house she was building.
When it was completely demolished, she went into the kitchen to find a tissue. Her Daddy was there. She jumped when she saw Him, and she hung her head, ashamed.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He asked tenderly. "How's your house?"
Her lip quivered as she tried to hold back a sob, but it burst forth anyway. "It's all in pieces," she said helplessly, opening her fist to reveal a handful of disconnected pieces.
The Daddy took His daughter in His arms. He held her and waited for her to calm down a bit before He said quietly, "We can start over."
The little girl shook her head. "Pieces are missing. It can't be what You wanted it to be. It will never be beautiful and perfect ever again, because I didn't guard the pieces, and You said every piece was important."
"You are right, we cannot build it the exact same way I wanted to, with the original pieces," the Daddy said. "But I have new pieces to replace the lost ones. It can still be just as perfect and beautiful."
The little girl looked at her Daddy, wide-eyed. "Really?"
He smiled and nodded. "Really. But this time, you have to follow My plan if you want it to turn out right. Otherwise we'll have to start all over again."
"I trust You," she said confidently. "And maybe there will be times when I don't, but You will help me, won't you?"
The Daddy took the pieces from His daughter's hand. "Always."
That vision meant something very specific to me, but it could apply to so many things. We have our own ideas about how to build a "house" -- whether it be a house of joy, purity, romance, happiness, success, whatever. We know what we want, we want it quickly, and we think God's plan is, frankly, a little boring.
But give it enough time, and we look at the thing we've created and realize it looks nothing like joy or purity or success at all. It looks like a mess. We tear it down in our frustration, and suddenly we have nothing but pieces. We think it can never look like what God intended.
But it can! Oh, Friend, it can.
"He who was seated on the throne said, 'I am making everything new!'" (Revelation 21:5a)
"It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners." (Mark 2:17)
Christ is in the business of restoring our messes to the way they were originally supposed to be. And when He does, we know it had to be all Him... We are far too prone to error to have built something so beautiful.
No matter how much we have messed up... we are never so far He cannot completely rebuild us in His perfect image. He came so that we could be restored -- not so that we could wallow in our sin. He came to pull us out from the pit -- not so that we could be "saved," but remain in that pit. He came to rewrite our stories, rebuild our houses, restore our brokenness. He came that we might have life, and we should not expect a second-rate version of life because we messed up. He's bigger than that. Leslie Ludy writes, "Once you have been restored by Him, you are clothed in His righteousness. You are entitled to all the benefits of His amazing kingdom. Your forgiveness is complete. Your sin is removed as far from you as the east is from the west. It is finished."
The things we thought we'd lost forever...He makes them new. The things we thought were broken beyond repair...He makes them new. The things we thought we would never be able to do over...He makes new. He makes all things new. He gives second chance after second chance after second chance. How He loves!!
"I find everything I thought I'd lost before... I come to You in pieces so You can make me whole."
Ah, the lessons one learns from Duplos.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Little Things
It's the way lights get a halo when it's raining. It's the ticking noise that old-fashioned clocks make. It's rain boots and umbrellas and the different ways people say "umbrella." It's the crisp snapping noise when you flick open a new trash bag. It's the beautiful sound and the enthralling sight when you pour water over parched soil.
It's warm cookies on a cold November day. It's the soft peaks in whipped cream. It's old pictures and the smell of old books. It's the crinkling noise of Bible pages. It's funny hats and strangely patterned scarves. It's the little girl who hides behind her mommy in the grocery store. It's singing Taylor Swift songs to your lunch. It's streets named "Christmastime Lane," that you know stay named that in the middle of July.
It's the amazing fact that the word "kerfuffle" actually exists. It's giraffe-patterned pillows. It's googly eyes. It's wiggling your toes in a soft carpet. It's ties, handsome ties and funny ties and bow ties. It's knowing that at any given moment, somewhere a mother is holding her baby for the very first time. It's the clicking noise that a keyboard makes when you type with long fingernails. It's taking five minutes to wash your hands because you're blowing bubbles with the soap.
It's the little things in life.
"We are all in the gutter," wrote Oscar Wilde, "but some of us are looking at the stars."
Dear Jesus...I thank You for the little things, for You have made them, just as You made the big things. I know that You have placed us in our particular situations for a reason. Sometimes, we might not be able to see that reason, and we get frustrated -- with ourselves, with the people around us, with life, even with You. Our eyes are fixed on the gutter surrounding us, and we can so easily get caught up in the annoyances that come with it. Oh Lord, draw our eyes to the stars. Show us the little things. Teach us to smile at the things that might seem the most insignificant, for they are precious gifts from You to remind us that You are there. You give us stars. You give us moments. You give us the little things. "I have learned the secret of being content," and it is that "I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength." And Christ is so good to us; He gives us little joys that would make up so much of life, if only we will notice them. So oh, God! let us notice them! Let us see Your hand and Your great affection for us in the everyday. Give us hearts and eyes open to the wonder and joy of the little things.
Friday, November 18, 2011
One of Those Nights
Last night was one of those nights. Dinner in the dining hall wasn't good. I was homesick. I wanted to curl up in a little ball, put a pillow over my head, and not get up until next month when I can go home. Little, tiny things were annoying me. And for whatever reason, I, Kendall, now seem incapable of tears and have been for about two and a half months.
One of those nights.
And He waited for me. With arms open, waited for me to come and find rest. He waited to hold me close and whisper sweet words of assurance and love to me. He waited to let me find a home near His heart. He waited to bring me to tears, not from petty human frustration, but from amazement at His goodness.
I kept Him waiting. He waited, and waited, and waited.
Oh, I still have so much to learn. It feels as though every time I take a step forward, I take two back. Every time a part of self dies, another part I thought was gone comes back. Every time I think I've got it, I realize I don't.
I am a seriously messed up person. And that's not okay.
But my God is for me. He has won the victory. He has purchased abundant life and victory for me. He has made me new. He has redeemed me and given me a new identity. But that new identity is so foreign that I am ever in the process of learning how to live as His princess. It will take a lifetime, but that's okay.
So let me rephrase. I was a seriously messed up person. But that is not who I am. Because my loving Daddy saw me from heaven, reached down, took hold of me, and made me His. He declared, "It is finished!" And it is! Oh, it is...
"For He chose us in Him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight. In love He predestined us to be adopted as His sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with His pleasure and will." -Ephesians 1:4-5
When I choose something, I have the option of not selecting something. I could choose one thing over another, choose several things and leave some out, or choose nothing at all. If I have this luxury, how much more does God! He is all-powerful. He could have passed me by. He could have decided to exclude me, or even to not create me.
But that's not what He did. He chose me. He has chosen all of us.
So what will our response be?
If a rich, loving King came to a poor, starving, wretched girl and told her he had decided to adopt her, would she reject His offer of food, shelter, and love? She would be a fool to do so! Rather, she should fall at His feet, weeping, protesting her unworthiness, saying she's not a princess and never could be.
But that is immaterial. The paperwork is signed. She is a princess -- already. Without her doing a thing. The royal room is prepared, a crown is set out for her. All she need do is accept this amazing offer and begin to accept the reality of her new identity. She needs to leave her old life, move into the palace, and begin to learn from her new Daddy what it means to be a princess.
She will often slip back into old habits. Her speech will often lack the dignity of a princess. She will put her elbows on the table. She'll wrinkle her nose and do all the un-princess-like things she's done all her life. And more than likely, she will often be embarrassed to go to her new Father -- she cannot understand why He would care about her life. But slowly, surely, the more time goes by, her behavior will begin to reflect who she is now. She will dress elegantly. She will eat in a refined manner. And she will be unafraid to run to her King, for He is her Father.
That is the reality of who I am. A princess. Sometimes I'm not very good at living up to that (actually, most of the time I'm not). But just because I haven't fully achieved princess-like behavior doesn't mean I'm not still a princess. I am! He chose me! The adoption papers are signed, the process is complete. I'm a princess. He chose me.
He chose you.
How good our Jesus is... He can redeem even one of those nights.
One of those nights.
And He waited for me. With arms open, waited for me to come and find rest. He waited to hold me close and whisper sweet words of assurance and love to me. He waited to let me find a home near His heart. He waited to bring me to tears, not from petty human frustration, but from amazement at His goodness.
I kept Him waiting. He waited, and waited, and waited.
Oh, I still have so much to learn. It feels as though every time I take a step forward, I take two back. Every time a part of self dies, another part I thought was gone comes back. Every time I think I've got it, I realize I don't.
I am a seriously messed up person. And that's not okay.
But my God is for me. He has won the victory. He has purchased abundant life and victory for me. He has made me new. He has redeemed me and given me a new identity. But that new identity is so foreign that I am ever in the process of learning how to live as His princess. It will take a lifetime, but that's okay.
So let me rephrase. I was a seriously messed up person. But that is not who I am. Because my loving Daddy saw me from heaven, reached down, took hold of me, and made me His. He declared, "It is finished!" And it is! Oh, it is...
"For He chose us in Him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight. In love He predestined us to be adopted as His sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with His pleasure and will." -Ephesians 1:4-5
When I choose something, I have the option of not selecting something. I could choose one thing over another, choose several things and leave some out, or choose nothing at all. If I have this luxury, how much more does God! He is all-powerful. He could have passed me by. He could have decided to exclude me, or even to not create me.
But that's not what He did. He chose me. He has chosen all of us.
So what will our response be?
If a rich, loving King came to a poor, starving, wretched girl and told her he had decided to adopt her, would she reject His offer of food, shelter, and love? She would be a fool to do so! Rather, she should fall at His feet, weeping, protesting her unworthiness, saying she's not a princess and never could be.
But that is immaterial. The paperwork is signed. She is a princess -- already. Without her doing a thing. The royal room is prepared, a crown is set out for her. All she need do is accept this amazing offer and begin to accept the reality of her new identity. She needs to leave her old life, move into the palace, and begin to learn from her new Daddy what it means to be a princess.
She will often slip back into old habits. Her speech will often lack the dignity of a princess. She will put her elbows on the table. She'll wrinkle her nose and do all the un-princess-like things she's done all her life. And more than likely, she will often be embarrassed to go to her new Father -- she cannot understand why He would care about her life. But slowly, surely, the more time goes by, her behavior will begin to reflect who she is now. She will dress elegantly. She will eat in a refined manner. And she will be unafraid to run to her King, for He is her Father.
That is the reality of who I am. A princess. Sometimes I'm not very good at living up to that (actually, most of the time I'm not). But just because I haven't fully achieved princess-like behavior doesn't mean I'm not still a princess. I am! He chose me! The adoption papers are signed, the process is complete. I'm a princess. He chose me.
He chose you.
How good our Jesus is... He can redeem even one of those nights.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Sacred Studying
I've already told you about never thinking God cared about spiders (if you've forgotten that lovely *sarcasm* story, you can read about it here). And I told you about my realization that God cares about exercise.
But there's something else. Something that, around this time of year, I think we all need to be reminded of.
God cares about school.
Some of us need to be reminded that we are to reflect the glory of God in every part of our life.
"Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might." ~Ecclesiastes 9:10a
"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men." ~Colossians 3:23
"So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God." ~1 Corinthians 10:31
We have been given an incredible opportunity -- an opportunity to learn about this world God has created and the story He is penning within it. For whatever reason, part of that story has you placed in a classroom for several hours out of the day. This is not merely some haphazard freak of nature. This is God's sacred intent for you for this time in your life. So give it back to Him! Let everything you do be done until Him. Ask for His patience, His wisdom, His clarity, and His vision of why you are here and why you are doing what you are doing. For whatever reason, He wants you to be learning what you are learning -- strive to find out why. Strive to see Him in every aspect of your studies. Ask Him to give you a heart of persistence and diligence. Ask Him for a heart of worship, even in this seemingly unrelated area. He is Lord of all of your life!
And some of us...some of us need to remember that this life is not about school.
Now before you go rolling your eyes and waving that off as a problem unique to Kendall, let me tell you how my school idolatry began.
It started with a nightmare. It wasn't a real nightmare, it was more like a daymare... One of those tricks your mind plays on you, one of those scenarios that will probably never come true that are somehow conjured up in your head.
It went something like this.
“Kendall, you cannot progress to nursing courses.”
I stared at my academic advisor in disbelief as she explained that I had failed to pass one of the critical courses for progression to nursing. In addition to this, I had lost my scholarship, since my GPA had dropped below its requirement.
I knew what this meant. I would have to go home. I would not be going back to college the next semester. I would not be becoming a nurse. I had failed.
I fought back the tears and tried to listen as my advisor explained that I could retake the course or switch majors, but I shook my head. Without the scholarship, there was no possible way I could continue. After two years of college, I was going home. I didn’t know what I would do. All the plans, all the dreams I’d ever had were crushed. No little "RN" by my name. I had not achieved my calling. I was useless.
Obviously this hasn't happened. Actually, when I first wrote down this "daymare," I hadn't even graduated from high school yet. But it terrified me. And from that point on, I threw myself into studying, and into a much less healthy and much more dangerous occupation -- worrying. What ifs played through my head before every test for the first two months of college. What if I failed a class? What if I couldn't be a nurse? I had been so sure of my calling, but I began to doubt it -- and I had absolutely no grounds to. I began to make plans for failure -- a plan B -- while I carried the full weight of the success or failure of plan A on my shoulders.
And then I read the following quote.
"God never issued instructions which He was not prepared to enable us to obey." ~Elisabeth Elliot
Guess what, Kendall, God began to whisper to my heart. I don't have a plan B. I never have a plan B. Do you think I would call you to do something, and then not provide a way for you to do it? Even if your life looks completely different from what you've imagined -- that's My plan A.
Jesus isn't going to give me a second-best life. And He isn't going to give you a second-best life.
So to all of my sweet friends slaving over college applications...do your best. Work at it with all your heart. But work at it as unto Christ. Wherever He wants you, He will make a way -- even if it looks impossible. He cares more about this than even you do.
To all my buddies studying for end-of-semester tests, writing long papers and staying up crying tears of stress that I understand only too well: Keep working hard, but never let the calling of school overshadow the importance of the One who called you. And never imagine that this is not a part of your life that Jesus wants under His lordship. When it composes the majority of your day, how could He not want it centered around Him and His will?
You are a full-time student. This is your calling for today. Therefore, do it to the best of your ability, by the grace of God, all for His glory.
But there's something else. Something that, around this time of year, I think we all need to be reminded of.
God cares about school.
Some of us need to be reminded that we are to reflect the glory of God in every part of our life.
"Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might." ~Ecclesiastes 9:10a
"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men." ~Colossians 3:23
"So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God." ~1 Corinthians 10:31
We have been given an incredible opportunity -- an opportunity to learn about this world God has created and the story He is penning within it. For whatever reason, part of that story has you placed in a classroom for several hours out of the day. This is not merely some haphazard freak of nature. This is God's sacred intent for you for this time in your life. So give it back to Him! Let everything you do be done until Him. Ask for His patience, His wisdom, His clarity, and His vision of why you are here and why you are doing what you are doing. For whatever reason, He wants you to be learning what you are learning -- strive to find out why. Strive to see Him in every aspect of your studies. Ask Him to give you a heart of persistence and diligence. Ask Him for a heart of worship, even in this seemingly unrelated area. He is Lord of all of your life!
And some of us...some of us need to remember that this life is not about school.
Now before you go rolling your eyes and waving that off as a problem unique to Kendall, let me tell you how my school idolatry began.
It started with a nightmare. It wasn't a real nightmare, it was more like a daymare... One of those tricks your mind plays on you, one of those scenarios that will probably never come true that are somehow conjured up in your head.
It went something like this.
“Kendall, you cannot progress to nursing courses.”
I stared at my academic advisor in disbelief as she explained that I had failed to pass one of the critical courses for progression to nursing. In addition to this, I had lost my scholarship, since my GPA had dropped below its requirement.
I knew what this meant. I would have to go home. I would not be going back to college the next semester. I would not be becoming a nurse. I had failed.
I fought back the tears and tried to listen as my advisor explained that I could retake the course or switch majors, but I shook my head. Without the scholarship, there was no possible way I could continue. After two years of college, I was going home. I didn’t know what I would do. All the plans, all the dreams I’d ever had were crushed. No little "RN" by my name. I had not achieved my calling. I was useless.
Obviously this hasn't happened. Actually, when I first wrote down this "daymare," I hadn't even graduated from high school yet. But it terrified me. And from that point on, I threw myself into studying, and into a much less healthy and much more dangerous occupation -- worrying. What ifs played through my head before every test for the first two months of college. What if I failed a class? What if I couldn't be a nurse? I had been so sure of my calling, but I began to doubt it -- and I had absolutely no grounds to. I began to make plans for failure -- a plan B -- while I carried the full weight of the success or failure of plan A on my shoulders.
And then I read the following quote.
"God never issued instructions which He was not prepared to enable us to obey." ~Elisabeth Elliot
Guess what, Kendall, God began to whisper to my heart. I don't have a plan B. I never have a plan B. Do you think I would call you to do something, and then not provide a way for you to do it? Even if your life looks completely different from what you've imagined -- that's My plan A.
Jesus isn't going to give me a second-best life. And He isn't going to give you a second-best life.
So to all of my sweet friends slaving over college applications...do your best. Work at it with all your heart. But work at it as unto Christ. Wherever He wants you, He will make a way -- even if it looks impossible. He cares more about this than even you do.
To all my buddies studying for end-of-semester tests, writing long papers and staying up crying tears of stress that I understand only too well: Keep working hard, but never let the calling of school overshadow the importance of the One who called you. And never imagine that this is not a part of your life that Jesus wants under His lordship. When it composes the majority of your day, how could He not want it centered around Him and His will?
You are a full-time student. This is your calling for today. Therefore, do it to the best of your ability, by the grace of God, all for His glory.
Friday, November 4, 2011
It's November...
It's November...
It's starting to get cold and drizzly. The perfect cuddle-up-in-a-blanket-with-hot-chocolate-and-a-good-book weather is upon us. The days are getting shorter, the nights are getting longer. The stars are getting all the brighter.
The hint of snow is in the air for a lucky group of people who live in a place I like to call my "home." It's almost exactly a month until I will be home. It's coming the time when I'll wake up to frost on my window, to a world covered in white. Oh! how excited I am for snow! Until I came to the South, I never realized how much snow contributed to my pre-holiday-season jitters.
It's rolling down to the end of the semester for us school-going folks. As the weather gets more and more frightful, I'm inclined to snuggle up with a cozy cup of coffee...and study? I can think of worse ways to spend my time.
It's November, Friend. November. Has it hit you yet? Has the closeness of Thanksgiving and Christmas started to sneak up behind you and tickle the back of your neck in a tingle of anticipation?
How fast the time goes! This year especially, I feel it whirring by at a crazy, crazy speed. To think I've been on my own at college for almost three months! I feel like so much has happened...and yet nothing, at the same time. So many lasts, so many firsts, so much love pervading it all. It's a quiet life I live... I feel like my life itself is in the month of November. I don't know why. I can't really describe it. The colors are bright and achingly beautiful, even though the skies are dark above. It's cozy and comfortable, but there's something haunting and chilling about it. It's a gentle, hurried, hushed, easy, unpredictable life...with Thanksgiving at the heart of it all. It's the last bit of calm before the rush of a December-sort-of-life begins, ushering the busyness of the season. It's calm. It's beautiful.
And I'm in love. There's something about love that just makes the world a bit rosier... It makes you want to get up in the morning and go do something. It makes you want to laugh, and cry, and love on the people around you.
It's crazy, this little thing called love. It's only what my whole world is centered around... For God is love, my friend. God is love. Radical, radiant, rejoicing, ransoming, reconciling, romancing, resplendent...love.
And that is why I love my quiet world. For in the midst of hustle and bustle, too often I miss the call, "Hush! Be still." But He has given me this beautiful season of quietness. How thankful I am for my November life! He has set apart this time to press into my heart, "You are Mine. Mine. And I love you beyond what you can possibly imagine." I don't know when November will end and the craziness of December will begin. I'm too enthralled with November. There is the tickle of something coming, something exciting, some grand adventure... It could be next month, next year, or next decade, but I will not fret. I will enjoy the tingle in my toes when I think about it, but I will live with both feet planted firmly in November. For that is where I am, where He has placed me, and why would I run from what my all-knowing, all-loving Daddy has planned for me? What care He uses to determine my steps! What gentleness He uses to guide me along the path He has paved with His deep, deep affection for me.
I love November, Friend. I love November. The month of May may have more flowers; June may be warmer; January may have more new beginnings; March may have more promise; and there is a time and place for each month. But I am very, very happy to have been placed in November.
Tell me, Friend: What month is your life in?
It's starting to get cold and drizzly. The perfect cuddle-up-in-a-blanket-with-hot-chocolate-and-a-good-book weather is upon us. The days are getting shorter, the nights are getting longer. The stars are getting all the brighter.
The hint of snow is in the air for a lucky group of people who live in a place I like to call my "home." It's almost exactly a month until I will be home. It's coming the time when I'll wake up to frost on my window, to a world covered in white. Oh! how excited I am for snow! Until I came to the South, I never realized how much snow contributed to my pre-holiday-season jitters.
It's rolling down to the end of the semester for us school-going folks. As the weather gets more and more frightful, I'm inclined to snuggle up with a cozy cup of coffee...and study? I can think of worse ways to spend my time.
It's November, Friend. November. Has it hit you yet? Has the closeness of Thanksgiving and Christmas started to sneak up behind you and tickle the back of your neck in a tingle of anticipation?
How fast the time goes! This year especially, I feel it whirring by at a crazy, crazy speed. To think I've been on my own at college for almost three months! I feel like so much has happened...and yet nothing, at the same time. So many lasts, so many firsts, so much love pervading it all. It's a quiet life I live... I feel like my life itself is in the month of November. I don't know why. I can't really describe it. The colors are bright and achingly beautiful, even though the skies are dark above. It's cozy and comfortable, but there's something haunting and chilling about it. It's a gentle, hurried, hushed, easy, unpredictable life...with Thanksgiving at the heart of it all. It's the last bit of calm before the rush of a December-sort-of-life begins, ushering the busyness of the season. It's calm. It's beautiful.
And I'm in love. There's something about love that just makes the world a bit rosier... It makes you want to get up in the morning and go do something. It makes you want to laugh, and cry, and love on the people around you.
It's crazy, this little thing called love. It's only what my whole world is centered around... For God is love, my friend. God is love. Radical, radiant, rejoicing, ransoming, reconciling, romancing, resplendent...love.
And that is why I love my quiet world. For in the midst of hustle and bustle, too often I miss the call, "Hush! Be still." But He has given me this beautiful season of quietness. How thankful I am for my November life! He has set apart this time to press into my heart, "You are Mine. Mine. And I love you beyond what you can possibly imagine." I don't know when November will end and the craziness of December will begin. I'm too enthralled with November. There is the tickle of something coming, something exciting, some grand adventure... It could be next month, next year, or next decade, but I will not fret. I will enjoy the tingle in my toes when I think about it, but I will live with both feet planted firmly in November. For that is where I am, where He has placed me, and why would I run from what my all-knowing, all-loving Daddy has planned for me? What care He uses to determine my steps! What gentleness He uses to guide me along the path He has paved with His deep, deep affection for me.
I love November, Friend. I love November. The month of May may have more flowers; June may be warmer; January may have more new beginnings; March may have more promise; and there is a time and place for each month. But I am very, very happy to have been placed in November.
Tell me, Friend: What month is your life in?
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Ruin Me
May my plans be upset that I might find Yours.
May my heart be broken that You might hold it together.
May my life be spent for all that You count worthy.
May my eyes be turned from all You despise.
May my passion be spent for You and You alone.
May the word "my" be purged from my vocabulary...
Oh, that I could always wholeheartedly pray that prayer!
Far too many times, I sit with my journal, and words flow onto the pages perfectly. They sound so beautiful, and I feel love for Jesus welling up in my heart. As the pen moves across the page, I feel my walls tumbling down; I feel His love changing me; I feel my heart slowly, reluctantly surrendering to His will and His ways.
And then I close the journal and walk away.
"Do not merely listen to the Word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says" (James 1:22).
Do I really believe what I pray? Do I really want what I ask for? If I'm being honest, then no, not all the time. I don't want to be ruined. That doesn't sound fun. I don't want to be a fool for the Cross of Christ sometimes. That's not popular. Most people don't want to read a blog about "Christian stuff." They want stories. They want embarrassing stories. They want cute stories, funny stories, stories with happy endings (to have an ending, the ending has to have already happened!). That's what gets blogs read. That's what makes people comfortable and warm and fuzzy inside. Isn't that what I want out of life? To make people feel warm and fuzzy inside?
When I picture people reading my blog, I like to imagine them with a cup of coffee or tea or hot cocoa or whatever warm beverage in a cup that sits perfectly in your hands that you like to drink, knees pulled up to their chest in a warm sweater. (Even in summer. You should try it sometime.) I want you to be comfy and warm and cozy on the outside, because I want that to reflect an inner coziness. And I know that the only way you can be perfectly, unconditionally "warm and fuzzy" no matter your circumstances -- good day or bad -- is through Jesus Christ....
...and He asks that we be willing to be ruined. To be broken and poured out and utterly spent.
Ah, the beautiful paradox of the purchased life!
What do you want, Kendall? He's been asking me. I mean, what do you really want?
An ache begins to whelm in my heart, and it declares, "I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection!"
He declares, Keep reading.
...I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings...
I want the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings.
The paradox once more. Life in death. Joy in pain.
I cannot fully know all of Jesus if I do not know His sufferings...and I want to know Christ. I don't want to stop because I've gotten to the uncomfortable part. I want to press in. I want to count it all as loss -- to be considered a fool, all for the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.
Are you really willing to be ruined? to move from simply saying the words to truly experiencing the upset, overturned, overtaken, ruined life?
If it means knowing Christ...Beloved, may I ever have that life!
May my heart be broken that You might hold it together.
May my life be spent for all that You count worthy.
May my eyes be turned from all You despise.
May my passion be spent for You and You alone.
May the word "my" be purged from my vocabulary...
Oh, that I could always wholeheartedly pray that prayer!
Far too many times, I sit with my journal, and words flow onto the pages perfectly. They sound so beautiful, and I feel love for Jesus welling up in my heart. As the pen moves across the page, I feel my walls tumbling down; I feel His love changing me; I feel my heart slowly, reluctantly surrendering to His will and His ways.
And then I close the journal and walk away.
"Do not merely listen to the Word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says" (James 1:22).
Do I really believe what I pray? Do I really want what I ask for? If I'm being honest, then no, not all the time. I don't want to be ruined. That doesn't sound fun. I don't want to be a fool for the Cross of Christ sometimes. That's not popular. Most people don't want to read a blog about "Christian stuff." They want stories. They want embarrassing stories. They want cute stories, funny stories, stories with happy endings (to have an ending, the ending has to have already happened!). That's what gets blogs read. That's what makes people comfortable and warm and fuzzy inside. Isn't that what I want out of life? To make people feel warm and fuzzy inside?
When I picture people reading my blog, I like to imagine them with a cup of coffee or tea or hot cocoa or whatever warm beverage in a cup that sits perfectly in your hands that you like to drink, knees pulled up to their chest in a warm sweater. (Even in summer. You should try it sometime.) I want you to be comfy and warm and cozy on the outside, because I want that to reflect an inner coziness. And I know that the only way you can be perfectly, unconditionally "warm and fuzzy" no matter your circumstances -- good day or bad -- is through Jesus Christ....
...and He asks that we be willing to be ruined. To be broken and poured out and utterly spent.
Ah, the beautiful paradox of the purchased life!
What do you want, Kendall? He's been asking me. I mean, what do you really want?
An ache begins to whelm in my heart, and it declares, "I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection!"
He declares, Keep reading.
...I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings...
I want the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings.
The paradox once more. Life in death. Joy in pain.
I cannot fully know all of Jesus if I do not know His sufferings...and I want to know Christ. I don't want to stop because I've gotten to the uncomfortable part. I want to press in. I want to count it all as loss -- to be considered a fool, all for the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.
Are you really willing to be ruined? to move from simply saying the words to truly experiencing the upset, overturned, overtaken, ruined life?
If it means knowing Christ...Beloved, may I ever have that life!
Thursday, October 20, 2011
As Time Goes By...
...I am more and more convinced of one thing.
Jesus Christ alone is important.
Academic Success calls out my name. "You need me," he whispers. "I deserve the majority of your time and attention. If you haven't got me, you're useless. How could God use someone mediocre -- or even worse, a failure?"
Jesus whispers back, "I use the foolish things to confound the wise. I can use someone who is a 'failure' by the world's standards, and use her for My glory more than a straight-A student who doesn't need to depend on Me would ever let Me. Yes, work hard. Do your best -- but do it unto Me, and do not allow it to replace Me in your life. I will take care of the rest."
Popularity drapes her arm around me. "Of course you need me!" she laughs loudly. "How will you ever get ahead in life without me? How will you ever get the message of Jesus out if people don't know who you are?"
Jesus lifts the heavy weight of her arm from my shoulders. "People don't need to know who you are, Kendall," he says. "They need to know who I am."
Regret slithers his cold hand into mine. "I keep you company at night," he hisses alluringly. "You'd be so lonely without me. Admit it -- without me, you wouldn't even know who you are. The things you've done shape you, Kendall, and I'm part of it. You can't get rid of me."
"I am making all things new!" Jesus declares, breaking Regret's dark hold on me. "I have laid down My life so that you may start over and have a new identity -- one that is founded in Me, and the truth about who I created you to be." He gently places His hand in mine. "And I will keep you company -- always."
Romantic Love waltzes up with a giggle and takes my other hand. "Without me, your life isn't complete!" she exclaims dramatically. "You will never be truly happy or fulfilled while I'm not around." So saying, she slips away and darts out of my reach, beckoning for me to come chase after her.
"Romantic Love cannot satisfy you," Jesus says warmly. "She will let you down. You must be fully, completely satisfied by Me alone if you are ever going to experience a love story the way it was meant to be experienced."
And slowly, as everything I've chased and pursued is stripped away, I realize something wonderful: Everything I want and need to be satisfied, to be fulfilled, is right in front of me. I need not waste time chasing these things and coming up empty and confused. He's here. That's all I need -- all I'll ever need.
"For every need and want is found in You -- every breath in me a gift from You. I have nothing here apart from You. I am Yours, Lord...only Yours." ~Meredith Andrews, "Only To Be Yours"
Jesus Christ alone is important.
Academic Success calls out my name. "You need me," he whispers. "I deserve the majority of your time and attention. If you haven't got me, you're useless. How could God use someone mediocre -- or even worse, a failure?"
Jesus whispers back, "I use the foolish things to confound the wise. I can use someone who is a 'failure' by the world's standards, and use her for My glory more than a straight-A student who doesn't need to depend on Me would ever let Me. Yes, work hard. Do your best -- but do it unto Me, and do not allow it to replace Me in your life. I will take care of the rest."
Popularity drapes her arm around me. "Of course you need me!" she laughs loudly. "How will you ever get ahead in life without me? How will you ever get the message of Jesus out if people don't know who you are?"
Jesus lifts the heavy weight of her arm from my shoulders. "People don't need to know who you are, Kendall," he says. "They need to know who I am."
Regret slithers his cold hand into mine. "I keep you company at night," he hisses alluringly. "You'd be so lonely without me. Admit it -- without me, you wouldn't even know who you are. The things you've done shape you, Kendall, and I'm part of it. You can't get rid of me."
"I am making all things new!" Jesus declares, breaking Regret's dark hold on me. "I have laid down My life so that you may start over and have a new identity -- one that is founded in Me, and the truth about who I created you to be." He gently places His hand in mine. "And I will keep you company -- always."
Romantic Love waltzes up with a giggle and takes my other hand. "Without me, your life isn't complete!" she exclaims dramatically. "You will never be truly happy or fulfilled while I'm not around." So saying, she slips away and darts out of my reach, beckoning for me to come chase after her.
"Romantic Love cannot satisfy you," Jesus says warmly. "She will let you down. You must be fully, completely satisfied by Me alone if you are ever going to experience a love story the way it was meant to be experienced."
And slowly, as everything I've chased and pursued is stripped away, I realize something wonderful: Everything I want and need to be satisfied, to be fulfilled, is right in front of me. I need not waste time chasing these things and coming up empty and confused. He's here. That's all I need -- all I'll ever need.
"For every need and want is found in You -- every breath in me a gift from You. I have nothing here apart from You. I am Yours, Lord...only Yours." ~Meredith Andrews, "Only To Be Yours"
Sunday, October 16, 2011
The Temple
The following was a journal entry I wrote back in July. I found it today and decided to share it. It is a very loose analogy, but I hope it ministers to you!
A man once bought a church. It was run down, falling apart, and not the most attractive architecture in the world. So he began to pour all his time and resources into changing the appearance of the building. He put in new windows, repainted the outside, and eventually had transformed it into one of the most beautiful buildings in town. Its lovely appearance drew people in. They came from all over to see this masterpiece.
However, the owner had failed to clean the inside of the church. The smell of garbage drifted through the halls. Mice scurried over the feet of those in attendance. No one truly seeking to worship could focus, due to the repulsive interior. However, most were not there to worship God; they were there because they thought the building beautiful. Either way, no one came back for a second Sunday. The church once again fell into disuse.
A second man, around the same time, bought a similar church. It, too, was plain; but the owner determined that the outside was unimportant -- after all, people worshiped inside the building, not while staring at the exterior. So he began to renovate the sanctuary. He completely gutted it and started from scratch. He put in thick carpet, comfortable seats, beautiful touches that spoke of the majesty of God. It was all designed to draw attention to Christ -- not the church itself. When it was finished, he put a fresh coat of paint on the outside to be sure it reflected the elegance and joy of Christ -- but beyond that, the church building was unchanged.
People truly desiring to seek God heard of the beautiful sanctuary. Songs of worship and prophetic words spilled out from the windows. Earnest worshipers encountered their Creator within this sanctuary without distraction.
No one even gave a thought to the building's exterior; they were too enthralled by the God within.
"Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit?" ~1 Corinthians 6:19
A man once bought a church. It was run down, falling apart, and not the most attractive architecture in the world. So he began to pour all his time and resources into changing the appearance of the building. He put in new windows, repainted the outside, and eventually had transformed it into one of the most beautiful buildings in town. Its lovely appearance drew people in. They came from all over to see this masterpiece.
However, the owner had failed to clean the inside of the church. The smell of garbage drifted through the halls. Mice scurried over the feet of those in attendance. No one truly seeking to worship could focus, due to the repulsive interior. However, most were not there to worship God; they were there because they thought the building beautiful. Either way, no one came back for a second Sunday. The church once again fell into disuse.
A second man, around the same time, bought a similar church. It, too, was plain; but the owner determined that the outside was unimportant -- after all, people worshiped inside the building, not while staring at the exterior. So he began to renovate the sanctuary. He completely gutted it and started from scratch. He put in thick carpet, comfortable seats, beautiful touches that spoke of the majesty of God. It was all designed to draw attention to Christ -- not the church itself. When it was finished, he put a fresh coat of paint on the outside to be sure it reflected the elegance and joy of Christ -- but beyond that, the church building was unchanged.
People truly desiring to seek God heard of the beautiful sanctuary. Songs of worship and prophetic words spilled out from the windows. Earnest worshipers encountered their Creator within this sanctuary without distraction.
No one even gave a thought to the building's exterior; they were too enthralled by the God within.
"Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit?" ~1 Corinthians 6:19
Friday, October 7, 2011
Letter to a Brother
Dear Brother,
You may be the guy I sit next to in science class. You may be the guy who held the door for me this morning. You may be any one of millions of young men on Planet Earth. But do you know what I figured out recently?
Whoever you are, you're someone else's future husband.
When I think of my future husband (if I get married), I imagine a young man whose heart has always been and always will be faithful to me. Whether or not that's a realistic picture or will be what actually happens, it's what I want (which is really hypocritical since I haven't exactly returned the favor...but I promise I'm going to start trying!). My perfect picture of the perfect man includes a heart that has been saved for me, eyes have never looked with love on anyone but me, hands that have never held the hand of a girl besides me. I firmly believe Jesus can give anyone (including me) a fresh start...but if I had my druthers, that's the way it would be.
So I had this crazy idea. What if I walked around looking at every guy thinking in my heart, Oh my goodness, won't it be beautiful when he gets married! How can I treat him now so that when he gets married, his wife comes to me one day and says, "Thank you for the way you treated and inspired my husband. Thank you for not attempting to take anything from him that was meant to be saved for me. Thank you for helping him preserve the gift of his heart and his mind. Thank you for making him a better man."
Golly, I'd love that. I'd love for your wife to think of me as that kind of woman. And I'd love to be the kind of woman that could inspire you to be a better man -- not so that I can have you, but so that the woman who does have you will be blessed by the man you are.
I'm pretty sure I've been a massive failure at that so far. Not that it's a pastime of mine to go around purposely tempting guys to dishonor their future wives, but I know it's happened. I know I do it. I know a couple times, I've done it pretty seriously.
So I just want to say to you, my dear brother...I'm sorry. And one day, tell your lovely, precious wife I'm sorry for me if I can't do it myself. I want to apologize to all the future wives out there for tempting your husbands to give away parts of themselves they should never have been asked to give away. And I want to apologize to you, the young men who have been and will be in my life, for having played a part in that. Should you ever choose to sit down with the woman God has for you and discuss the previous women in your life, I cannot imagine how mortified I would be when you had to talk about me.
But from now on, I commit to living differently. For your sake and for the sake of the gorgeous, amazing woman who will one day be your bride, I want to start to be the kind of woman who could be thanked for her interaction with you.
I don't know how. But by the grace of God and with His help in each and every day, I want to change. I want to be a good sister for you.
So I am I sorry for all the times I have caused your eyes to turn away from where they should be directed, and I look forward to a future of pointing you ever more toward Christ.
Love,
Kendall
You may be the guy I sit next to in science class. You may be the guy who held the door for me this morning. You may be any one of millions of young men on Planet Earth. But do you know what I figured out recently?
Whoever you are, you're someone else's future husband.
When I think of my future husband (if I get married), I imagine a young man whose heart has always been and always will be faithful to me. Whether or not that's a realistic picture or will be what actually happens, it's what I want (which is really hypocritical since I haven't exactly returned the favor...but I promise I'm going to start trying!). My perfect picture of the perfect man includes a heart that has been saved for me, eyes have never looked with love on anyone but me, hands that have never held the hand of a girl besides me. I firmly believe Jesus can give anyone (including me) a fresh start...but if I had my druthers, that's the way it would be.
So I had this crazy idea. What if I walked around looking at every guy thinking in my heart, Oh my goodness, won't it be beautiful when he gets married! How can I treat him now so that when he gets married, his wife comes to me one day and says, "Thank you for the way you treated and inspired my husband. Thank you for not attempting to take anything from him that was meant to be saved for me. Thank you for helping him preserve the gift of his heart and his mind. Thank you for making him a better man."
Golly, I'd love that. I'd love for your wife to think of me as that kind of woman. And I'd love to be the kind of woman that could inspire you to be a better man -- not so that I can have you, but so that the woman who does have you will be blessed by the man you are.
I'm pretty sure I've been a massive failure at that so far. Not that it's a pastime of mine to go around purposely tempting guys to dishonor their future wives, but I know it's happened. I know I do it. I know a couple times, I've done it pretty seriously.
So I just want to say to you, my dear brother...I'm sorry. And one day, tell your lovely, precious wife I'm sorry for me if I can't do it myself. I want to apologize to all the future wives out there for tempting your husbands to give away parts of themselves they should never have been asked to give away. And I want to apologize to you, the young men who have been and will be in my life, for having played a part in that. Should you ever choose to sit down with the woman God has for you and discuss the previous women in your life, I cannot imagine how mortified I would be when you had to talk about me.
But from now on, I commit to living differently. For your sake and for the sake of the gorgeous, amazing woman who will one day be your bride, I want to start to be the kind of woman who could be thanked for her interaction with you.
I don't know how. But by the grace of God and with His help in each and every day, I want to change. I want to be a good sister for you.
So I am I sorry for all the times I have caused your eyes to turn away from where they should be directed, and I look forward to a future of pointing you ever more toward Christ.
Love,
Kendall
Sunday, October 2, 2011
A New Thing
"Kendall."
"ACK!" I jump and hurriedly stuff the papers in my hand under my pillow. "Ahem. Hi."
"What are you doing?"
"Oh, just, You know..." I awkwardly twirl my hair around my finger. "Just doing a bit of, uh...reading."
"Something I wrote?"
I bite my lip and look at the Bible that sits closed on my desk. "Well..."
"Will you let Me see it?"
I know very well that He already knows what it is I have stuffed under my pillow. Slowly, I pull out the crumpled pages and hand them to Him. He accepts them, but He isn't looking at the writings in His hand. He's looking at me.
"You told Me you were through with this story."
"I am!" I exclaim earnestly. "I haven't added any more to it, I promise. I just..." I look at the worn pages longingly. "I like to go back sometimes."
He comes and sits down beside me. "Why is that?"
"I --" My eyes fill with tears. "I don't know," I whisper, shaking my head.
He sets the pages aside and directs my gaze to the Book on my desk. I reach for it, and He directs me to the page He desires me to know. The lines have been marked, but how many times have I simply passed the words by, never letting them sink into my heart? Gently, sweetly, He begins to read to me...
"Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland..."
Lord, may my eyes be drawn to the new things you do in my life. May I ever look forward, not in regret or in wishing to the past. Capture my heart...let me be in love with the God who makes all things new.
"ACK!" I jump and hurriedly stuff the papers in my hand under my pillow. "Ahem. Hi."
"What are you doing?"
"Oh, just, You know..." I awkwardly twirl my hair around my finger. "Just doing a bit of, uh...reading."
"Something I wrote?"
I bite my lip and look at the Bible that sits closed on my desk. "Well..."
"Will you let Me see it?"
I know very well that He already knows what it is I have stuffed under my pillow. Slowly, I pull out the crumpled pages and hand them to Him. He accepts them, but He isn't looking at the writings in His hand. He's looking at me.
"You told Me you were through with this story."
"I am!" I exclaim earnestly. "I haven't added any more to it, I promise. I just..." I look at the worn pages longingly. "I like to go back sometimes."
He comes and sits down beside me. "Why is that?"
"I --" My eyes fill with tears. "I don't know," I whisper, shaking my head.
He sets the pages aside and directs my gaze to the Book on my desk. I reach for it, and He directs me to the page He desires me to know. The lines have been marked, but how many times have I simply passed the words by, never letting them sink into my heart? Gently, sweetly, He begins to read to me...
"Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland..."
Lord, may my eyes be drawn to the new things you do in my life. May I ever look forward, not in regret or in wishing to the past. Capture my heart...let me be in love with the God who makes all things new.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Lessons from Gideon
I've never really been an Old Testament girl. My Bible has always looked rather lopsided, with the New Testament well-worn and heavily underlined and the Old sitting sad and lonely with the majority of the marks of its use in Psalms. However, for my Old Testament college course, I am required to read a little under two-thirds of the OT. I made it through the Books of the Law with a little bit of difficulty, but I certainly learned things about our Lord's holiness. And the fact that He deeply cares about people who have accidentally killed someone (seriously, it's in there at least five times -- what a heart He has to protect them!).
A few days ago, my reading brought me to Judges. When I came to the story of Gideon, it was tempting to skim the story so that I could simply refresh my memory and get through more pages. But the Holy Spirit urged my heart to slow down and absorb every single line and verse of what I was reading. (This really has nothing to do with the point of this post, I just love the way God brings certain things to my attention -- He loves me, He loves me!)
Gideon had an enormous calling. He was called to rescue Israel from the hands of their enemies, the Midianites. And, like so many of us, he did not feel qualified for this calling. "But Lord," he protested, "how can I save Israel? My clan is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the least in my family!"
I hear echoes of Gideon's protests in my own prayers. "I'm not old enough." "I'm not wise enough." "I'm not smart enough." "I don't have enough money." "I'm not very good at that; I really feel my gifting is in another area."
And here's what God says.
"Go in the strength you have and save Israel."
Not, "Oh, golly gee Gideon, you're right. I didn't think of that. I'll go find someone else. You keep hiding in your wine press."
Not, "Whoa, I see what you mean -- you're scrawny! Drop down and give me twenty! Bulk up a bit, and I'll come back when your biceps are big enough to handle this calling."
No. Not, "Go get more strength."
"Go in the strength you have."
Take what you have already... Give it to Me... And I will do the rest.
And then, to seal the deal, He reminds Gideon of something very important.
"Go in the strength you have and save Israel out of Midian's hand. Am I not sending you?"
Can't you see it? Why would you doubt? Why would you believe this is impossible? Are you forgetting who it is that asked you to go?
Is it not the Creator of the Universe who calls us?
The Almighty Savior who conquered death?
The ever-present Friend who longs to be near and hear our every prayer?
Is it not an all-powerful, loving, beautiful LORD who sends us?
"I will be with you," He continues, "and you will strike down all the Midianites."
All of them.
And He will be with us!
Do not wait, my friend, and do not worry! Do not consider yourself unqualified! Go in the strength you have -- and He will fight for you. Step out in faith, willing to be used, no matter how small and insignificant you feel. (Not only did Gideon feel unqualified, but once he obeyed anyway, God actually made him decrease the number of fighting men he had with him!)
If I had enough strength to do things on my own, this life would be about me. But it's not about me. It's about Him.
So I commit to go...in the strength I have. Not worrying about tomorrow. Not worrying about failure. May we claim the victory that has already been purchased by the blood of Jesus Christ. May we live in the freedom won by the Cross, sealed by our Commander in heaven!
A few days ago, my reading brought me to Judges. When I came to the story of Gideon, it was tempting to skim the story so that I could simply refresh my memory and get through more pages. But the Holy Spirit urged my heart to slow down and absorb every single line and verse of what I was reading. (This really has nothing to do with the point of this post, I just love the way God brings certain things to my attention -- He loves me, He loves me!)
Gideon had an enormous calling. He was called to rescue Israel from the hands of their enemies, the Midianites. And, like so many of us, he did not feel qualified for this calling. "But Lord," he protested, "how can I save Israel? My clan is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the least in my family!"
I hear echoes of Gideon's protests in my own prayers. "I'm not old enough." "I'm not wise enough." "I'm not smart enough." "I don't have enough money." "I'm not very good at that; I really feel my gifting is in another area."
And here's what God says.
"Go in the strength you have and save Israel."
Not, "Oh, golly gee Gideon, you're right. I didn't think of that. I'll go find someone else. You keep hiding in your wine press."
Not, "Whoa, I see what you mean -- you're scrawny! Drop down and give me twenty! Bulk up a bit, and I'll come back when your biceps are big enough to handle this calling."
No. Not, "Go get more strength."
"Go in the strength you have."
Take what you have already... Give it to Me... And I will do the rest.
And then, to seal the deal, He reminds Gideon of something very important.
"Go in the strength you have and save Israel out of Midian's hand. Am I not sending you?"
Can't you see it? Why would you doubt? Why would you believe this is impossible? Are you forgetting who it is that asked you to go?
Is it not the Creator of the Universe who calls us?
The Almighty Savior who conquered death?
The ever-present Friend who longs to be near and hear our every prayer?
Is it not an all-powerful, loving, beautiful LORD who sends us?
"I will be with you," He continues, "and you will strike down all the Midianites."
All of them.
And He will be with us!
Do not wait, my friend, and do not worry! Do not consider yourself unqualified! Go in the strength you have -- and He will fight for you. Step out in faith, willing to be used, no matter how small and insignificant you feel. (Not only did Gideon feel unqualified, but once he obeyed anyway, God actually made him decrease the number of fighting men he had with him!)
If I had enough strength to do things on my own, this life would be about me. But it's not about me. It's about Him.
So I commit to go...in the strength I have. Not worrying about tomorrow. Not worrying about failure. May we claim the victory that has already been purchased by the blood of Jesus Christ. May we live in the freedom won by the Cross, sealed by our Commander in heaven!
Saturday, September 3, 2011
The God Who Hears
"If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask Him!" ~Matthew 7:11
I like flowery language. I like my prayers to sound profound. I like to use big words, and have my language flow, and sound overall very smart.
I was in the middle of one such smart-sounding prayer the other night when an image flashed through my mind with a force that made me completely forget what I had just been praying about.
I was sitting on the floor -- not even kneeling, really, just sitting -- and in front of me was a Man in a chair, leaning forward, listening intently to everything I was saying.
And when that image flashed into my mind, I no longer had anything to say.
I've talked to a fair number of people in my lifetime, and there is nothing that bothers me more than when the person I'm talking to isn't really listening. And let's face it -- most of the time, people aren't really listening. They have other things on their mind. They're wondering who sent the text that just buzzed in their pocket. They're thinking, "Oh my gosh, would this Kendall girl please just shut up!"
And I think that's how I approach God as a talker. I talk without really believing He's intently listening. I know He can hear me, and probably some divine stenographer is writing down everything I say to bring it to His attention later. As a result, it's far less frequent than it should be that I really experience God's presence as I'm praying.
But once again, I have approached everything with the wrong attitude: Believing that it's all about me.
Prayer is not about me talking.
It's about God listening.
It's about an amazing Heavenly Daddy who, when you whisper "Dear God" in the back of your mind, leans forward. He is incredibly eager to hear what you have to say. He's incredibly eager to meet you, right then and there, while you're talking. He listens. With 100% of His attention (God has a lot of attention).
Prayer is about God listening. I wish I would have understood that years ago. If God didn't exist... If God didn't have the power to change circumstances, to change hearts, to change my heart... What good would prayer be? Could I change the world with prayers directed at an empty heaven, no matter how flowery?
Moreover, since God is so gracious to listen with undivided attention to me...should I not give the same undivided attention to Him when He speaks?
"Before they call I will answer; while they are still speaking I will hear." ~Isaiah 65:24
I like flowery language. I like my prayers to sound profound. I like to use big words, and have my language flow, and sound overall very smart.
I was in the middle of one such smart-sounding prayer the other night when an image flashed through my mind with a force that made me completely forget what I had just been praying about.
I was sitting on the floor -- not even kneeling, really, just sitting -- and in front of me was a Man in a chair, leaning forward, listening intently to everything I was saying.
And when that image flashed into my mind, I no longer had anything to say.
I've talked to a fair number of people in my lifetime, and there is nothing that bothers me more than when the person I'm talking to isn't really listening. And let's face it -- most of the time, people aren't really listening. They have other things on their mind. They're wondering who sent the text that just buzzed in their pocket. They're thinking, "Oh my gosh, would this Kendall girl please just shut up!"
And I think that's how I approach God as a talker. I talk without really believing He's intently listening. I know He can hear me, and probably some divine stenographer is writing down everything I say to bring it to His attention later. As a result, it's far less frequent than it should be that I really experience God's presence as I'm praying.
But once again, I have approached everything with the wrong attitude: Believing that it's all about me.
Prayer is not about me talking.
It's about God listening.
It's about an amazing Heavenly Daddy who, when you whisper "Dear God" in the back of your mind, leans forward. He is incredibly eager to hear what you have to say. He's incredibly eager to meet you, right then and there, while you're talking. He listens. With 100% of His attention (God has a lot of attention).
Prayer is about God listening. I wish I would have understood that years ago. If God didn't exist... If God didn't have the power to change circumstances, to change hearts, to change my heart... What good would prayer be? Could I change the world with prayers directed at an empty heaven, no matter how flowery?
Moreover, since God is so gracious to listen with undivided attention to me...should I not give the same undivided attention to Him when He speaks?
"Before they call I will answer; while they are still speaking I will hear." ~Isaiah 65:24
Sunday, August 28, 2011
In Your Arms
I'm turning the world off, embracing the silence
Walking away from all the voices that are screaming in my ear
I've been too caught up; I've been so stressed out
And all of the noise replaced the whisper that used to be so clear
So I close every door and put my face back on the floor...
~"In Your Arms," Meredith Andrews
"What do you want to teach me, God? What are you asking of me? What do you want me to hear from You?"
The questions continue as my frustration grows at the lack of communication I seem to be having. Are my prayers getting through? Do dorm room walls somehow block out Jesus?
And then, all of a sudden, the answer slams into me, as subtle as a sledgehammer and as gentle as a landing butterfly.
Be still!
There is nothing that compares to sitting with Jesus for minute upon minute, hour upon hour... But in the middle of so much going on, what about when I don't have time for hours to be still?
But He didn't say, Be still for six hours. He just said, "Be still! Period!"
So I did...
Oh goodness, Jesus loves me. How much He longs to tell me, every day, through everything! How He wants me to run to Him, let Him protect me, understand how He watches over me. How desperately He longs for me to obey Him so that I can experience greater intimacy with Him.
And as I kneel in His throne room...how He longs to rise up from His throne, and rush down to me.
To me!!
I love you, He whispers. Can I show you? Can you see everything in this entire world as part of a love song and a love story I am writing between us? Can you see everything as an opportunity to come closer to Me? Can I pick you up, can I hold you close, can I guide you and lead you and love you?
How He loves...
"Be still," He whispers. "Be still and let Me love you."
That's all He wants to teach me right now. Because nothing else in this world matters. We love because He first loved us...so how can we love without understanding the depth of that glorious love?
Oh, that He would love in and through me!
Walking away from all the voices that are screaming in my ear
I've been too caught up; I've been so stressed out
And all of the noise replaced the whisper that used to be so clear
So I close every door and put my face back on the floor...
~"In Your Arms," Meredith Andrews
"What do you want to teach me, God? What are you asking of me? What do you want me to hear from You?"
The questions continue as my frustration grows at the lack of communication I seem to be having. Are my prayers getting through? Do dorm room walls somehow block out Jesus?
And then, all of a sudden, the answer slams into me, as subtle as a sledgehammer and as gentle as a landing butterfly.
Be still!
There is nothing that compares to sitting with Jesus for minute upon minute, hour upon hour... But in the middle of so much going on, what about when I don't have time for hours to be still?
But He didn't say, Be still for six hours. He just said, "Be still! Period!"
So I did...
Oh goodness, Jesus loves me. How much He longs to tell me, every day, through everything! How He wants me to run to Him, let Him protect me, understand how He watches over me. How desperately He longs for me to obey Him so that I can experience greater intimacy with Him.
And as I kneel in His throne room...how He longs to rise up from His throne, and rush down to me.
To me!!
I love you, He whispers. Can I show you? Can you see everything in this entire world as part of a love song and a love story I am writing between us? Can you see everything as an opportunity to come closer to Me? Can I pick you up, can I hold you close, can I guide you and lead you and love you?
How He loves...
"Be still," He whispers. "Be still and let Me love you."
That's all He wants to teach me right now. Because nothing else in this world matters. We love because He first loved us...so how can we love without understanding the depth of that glorious love?
Oh, that He would love in and through me!
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Jesus Loves Me
Jesus loves me.
Simple fact.
Jesus loves me.
He does not want me to be miserable.
He does not have devious plans to ruin my life.
He does not hate my stuff.
He does not want me to be a dull, boring person cooped up in a bare house my whole life.
He doesn't want me to never have fun.
He loves me.
And He knows. He knows the plans He has for me. He doesn't have a vague inkling. He doesn't randomly switch His ideas about my future on every odd-numbered Tuesday. He knows.
Goodness knows I don't... I'm glad Someone does!
When I feel like I don't fit in... When I wonder to myself, "What in the world am I doing here?"... When I want to turn and run the other way, a gentle whisper embraces my heart and says, "I love you, and I know."
I still don't
But He does. And He loves me.
And when I hang back, he turns His head to look at me. He smiles, holds out His hand, and without a word, His eyes say, "Will you follow?"
When I say, "I can't," He says, "I can."
When I say, "It's too hard," He says, "My burden is light."
When I say, "It's too dangerous," He says, "You will walk through fire and not be burned."
Through fire!...and not be burned!
Jesus loves me.
Jesus loves you.
The least I can do is love Him back.
Simple fact.
Jesus loves me.
He does not want me to be miserable.
He does not have devious plans to ruin my life.
He does not hate my stuff.
He does not want me to be a dull, boring person cooped up in a bare house my whole life.
He doesn't want me to never have fun.
He loves me.
And He knows. He knows the plans He has for me. He doesn't have a vague inkling. He doesn't randomly switch His ideas about my future on every odd-numbered Tuesday. He knows.
Goodness knows I don't... I'm glad Someone does!
When I feel like I don't fit in... When I wonder to myself, "What in the world am I doing here?"... When I want to turn and run the other way, a gentle whisper embraces my heart and says, "I love you, and I know."
I still don't
But He does. And He loves me.
And when I hang back, he turns His head to look at me. He smiles, holds out His hand, and without a word, His eyes say, "Will you follow?"
When I say, "I can't," He says, "I can."
When I say, "It's too hard," He says, "My burden is light."
When I say, "It's too dangerous," He says, "You will walk through fire and not be burned."
Through fire!...and not be burned!
Jesus loves me.
Jesus loves you.
The least I can do is love Him back.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Followers
Hi all,
For some reason unbeknownst to me, you are no longer able to "follow" my blog (I am not sure if this holds true for people who are already following). I added something on the right side of the page (over there --->) so that you can subscribe by email to be notified of new posts.
I appreciate each and every one of you! Blessings on your week, and I'll update/post again once I'm settled into college. =)
Many blessings,
Kendall
For some reason unbeknownst to me, you are no longer able to "follow" my blog (I am not sure if this holds true for people who are already following). I added something on the right side of the page (over there --->) so that you can subscribe by email to be notified of new posts.
I appreciate each and every one of you! Blessings on your week, and I'll update/post again once I'm settled into college. =)
Many blessings,
Kendall
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
"What are you afraid of? Let God act. Abandon yourself to Him. You will suffer, but you will suffer with love, peace, and consolation. You will fight, but you can carry off the victory, and God Himself, after having fought with you, will crown you with His own hand. You will weep, but your tears will be sweet, and God Himself will come with satisfaction to dry them. You will not be free any longer to give yourself up to your tyrannic passions, but you will sacrifice your liberty freely, and you will enter into a new liberty unknown to the world, in which you will do nothing except for love."
~Francois Fenelon
~Francois Fenelon
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Surrendering Spiders
Let me tell you a little story about me. Me and spiders.
Me and spiders don't get along very well. Not only do I have a fear of them, but I have a fear of killing them. This proves quite problematic.
Therefore, last night, when I marched into the bathroom and discovered a spider half the size of my hand (I have small hands, so that's not really an exaggeration), there was only one thing to do: Run away.
So I ran to my brother and begged him to come kill it (scaring him half to death in the process, poor guy). And of course, what do spiders do when you take your eyes off them for two seconds? They disappear. Vanish into thin air, unable to be seen by the valiant spider-killers who have left their comfortable beds to come save you.
Armed with a towel my brother promised would defend me against the spider's spiderly wiles, I sneaked back into the bathroom. I rounded the corner, and LO! There he (or she) was. Nearly falling over the laundry hamper, I abandoned my towel sword and ran frantically around trying to find the vacuum that I had apparently misplaced. After much crashing noises, stubbing of toes, and skipped heartbeats, I was finally poised four feet across from the spider, my eyes narrowed in a glare that causes humans to believe I hate them but apparently does nothing to spiders, holding the vacuum, ready to suck up the spider that had ruined my peaceful night's sleep.
Safely back in bed after disposing of the tiny creature I had not-so-fondly nicknamed "Beelzebub," I didn't fall asleep until I heard that tiny voice:
"I want that."
I wrinkled my metaphorical brow in confusion. "You want what?"
"I want that paralyzing fear. I want you to hand it over to Me."
I'm fairly certain my little brain-me was laughing. "You want spiders? You want me to surrender my fear of spiders?"
Apparently. All of a sudden it was no laughing matter.
"Really? Are You sure? It's really not a big deal..."
"Then why won't you give it up?"
"Good question..."
What does God do when you ask to be close to Him? He answers. And He answers by stripping away everything in your life that is not of Him. Great and small do not exist in His eyes; every single tiny little thing is important to Him. If there is a teeny-tiny little thing that is keeping you from being completely sold out for Him, I can guarantee that when you ask for intimacy with Christ, He will go to all lengths to get that teeny-tiny little thing out of your life.
I like when God asks for big things. It makes me feel better about myself. I feel very self-satisfied when I follow His call in giving up a pastime, an addiction, a relationship -- something that has been a huge, very obvious part of my life.
And then there are the times He asks for the not-so-big things. Like spiders. And when He asks for these things, to my shock and horror I discover that these tiny little things have a fiercer hold over my heart than anything big He's ever taken away. He slowly shows to me that fear and compromise are a part of my every day life in areas I've never even thought about. Jesus cares what I think of spiders?? Yes. Yes He does. It was news to me too.
So I am embarking on a rather terrifying journey: Overcoming fear through the power of Christ. The fear just happens to be of eight-legged creepy crawlers who, my entomologically-learned brother informed me, are mostly harmless in my pleasant little home.
We were not made to be enslaved to anyone or anything but Christ. Let us take hold of the power of the cross in every area of our lives -- no matter how ridiculous it is. He cares. He desires that part of your heart. He loves. And He has overcome.
Me and spiders don't get along very well. Not only do I have a fear of them, but I have a fear of killing them. This proves quite problematic.
Therefore, last night, when I marched into the bathroom and discovered a spider half the size of my hand (I have small hands, so that's not really an exaggeration), there was only one thing to do: Run away.
So I ran to my brother and begged him to come kill it (scaring him half to death in the process, poor guy). And of course, what do spiders do when you take your eyes off them for two seconds? They disappear. Vanish into thin air, unable to be seen by the valiant spider-killers who have left their comfortable beds to come save you.
Armed with a towel my brother promised would defend me against the spider's spiderly wiles, I sneaked back into the bathroom. I rounded the corner, and LO! There he (or she) was. Nearly falling over the laundry hamper, I abandoned my towel sword and ran frantically around trying to find the vacuum that I had apparently misplaced. After much crashing noises, stubbing of toes, and skipped heartbeats, I was finally poised four feet across from the spider, my eyes narrowed in a glare that causes humans to believe I hate them but apparently does nothing to spiders, holding the vacuum, ready to suck up the spider that had ruined my peaceful night's sleep.
Safely back in bed after disposing of the tiny creature I had not-so-fondly nicknamed "Beelzebub," I didn't fall asleep until I heard that tiny voice:
"I want that."
I wrinkled my metaphorical brow in confusion. "You want what?"
"I want that paralyzing fear. I want you to hand it over to Me."
I'm fairly certain my little brain-me was laughing. "You want spiders? You want me to surrender my fear of spiders?"
Apparently. All of a sudden it was no laughing matter.
"Really? Are You sure? It's really not a big deal..."
"Then why won't you give it up?"
"Good question..."
What does God do when you ask to be close to Him? He answers. And He answers by stripping away everything in your life that is not of Him. Great and small do not exist in His eyes; every single tiny little thing is important to Him. If there is a teeny-tiny little thing that is keeping you from being completely sold out for Him, I can guarantee that when you ask for intimacy with Christ, He will go to all lengths to get that teeny-tiny little thing out of your life.
I like when God asks for big things. It makes me feel better about myself. I feel very self-satisfied when I follow His call in giving up a pastime, an addiction, a relationship -- something that has been a huge, very obvious part of my life.
And then there are the times He asks for the not-so-big things. Like spiders. And when He asks for these things, to my shock and horror I discover that these tiny little things have a fiercer hold over my heart than anything big He's ever taken away. He slowly shows to me that fear and compromise are a part of my every day life in areas I've never even thought about. Jesus cares what I think of spiders?? Yes. Yes He does. It was news to me too.
So I am embarking on a rather terrifying journey: Overcoming fear through the power of Christ. The fear just happens to be of eight-legged creepy crawlers who, my entomologically-learned brother informed me, are mostly harmless in my pleasant little home.
We were not made to be enslaved to anyone or anything but Christ. Let us take hold of the power of the cross in every area of our lives -- no matter how ridiculous it is. He cares. He desires that part of your heart. He loves. And He has overcome.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Relinquishing the Pen
I tear the love story I’ve written into shreds and throw them into the fire. Burying my face in my arms, I lie crumpled on the floor, unable to believe I could have let myself get carried away like that. I have hurt not only myself, but also the others involved in the story I have penned for myself.
The Lover of my soul appears, seemingly out of nowhere, and sits beside me while I cry. His arms wrap tightly around me, and His heart lavishes compassion on me. He doesn’t say a word; His presence is enough to soon calm my tears.
I look up at Him. “What did I do wrong?”
His eyes are filled with sadness. His heart is breaking for me; I can tell. I want to go back and erase it all. I want a fresh start. “Beloved, you did not ask of Me.”
I collapse into tears again, ashamed that I have walked away from my truest Friend. He stays beside me, comforting me. He assures me He will not leave me. And then He says the one thing I have been dying to hear.
“I can make it all go away. I can give you a new beginning.”
I look up with hope and dash away the tears. “Do You mean it?”
“I do. All you have to do is give Me that pen, and I’ll start it all over for you.”
I look down at the pen upon which His eyes are resting. I grimace. “Lord, this isn’t just the pen I’ve used to write my love story… It’s what I’ve been using to write my life story.”
“If you would have Me write a beautiful love story, I must have your entire life. But the choice is up to you.”
I gaze into His eyes, so full of love. I know that if I give up the pen, He will write a story beyond what I can even comprehend. But even so, I enjoy the security of my pen. I enjoy having the option of saying “no” to something He suggests. If nothing else, it is entertaining to try out certain plot devices, even if they had never worked out before and likely wouldn’t in the future.
“How about we collaborate?” I suggest hopefully. “I’ll leave the pen on that desk there, and when You want to write something You can, and when I want to write something, I can.”
“The choice is up to you,” He repeats.
I smile, glad that we’ve come to an agreement.
Time passes. I find myself in the middle of another love story. Since I’ve asked my heavenly Lover to collaborate, I’m sure that this time, it will all work out all right.
But it’s not too long before I find myself ripping it to shreds and tossing it in the fire yet again.
“Why didn’t you intervene?” I rage at Him. “I told You we would collaborate. Why didn’t You make it all work out in the end?”
“You began with ideas that were all your own – not Mine. If you had realized this earlier and asked Me to step in, I would have – but you never left the pen. You asked Me to collaborate, but you never even stepped aside and asked My opinion.”
I stare down at the pen. He is right. I had never once abandoned my post as author. Even if I had, all of His time would have been spent cleaning up the mess I had made. There would be no time for new adventures. If we switched off writing, it would be an endless rollercoaster, where I would write myself into a corner, He would write me out of it, and then it would all begin again. There was nothing beautiful about that.
“What do I have to do, then?” I ask.
“You have to give it up. Completely.”
I look down at the pen that has been my best friend and my worst enemy. Can I really leave it all behind? Can I forsake what I want to write into my life? Can I leave it entirely up to Him?
I look at Him. He looks back. He is longing for me to hand the pen over. He has a story in mind. I can see it written all over His face. He wants to write it, to make it all turn out beautifully, to bring it to a glorious ending that’s even better than the fairy tales.
I look at the pen again. I think of the heartache that it has cost me. I think of all the people I’ve hurt by my unskilled writing.
I walk up to my Lover, fall to the ground before Him, and there leave the pen. Never to pick it up again.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Ducks and Direction
I am a list person. I adore them. I make lots of them. I cleaned out my closet yesterday and found notebooks filled with lists galore. From "Pretty Flowers" to "Career Ideas" to "The Husband List," I could make a list about just about anything. I like having everything laid out, everything on the table, all the ducks in a row.
I like life to look a lot like this:
AREN'T THEY CUTE?? They're so tiny and fuzzy and perfectly in a row, waiting for their turn to climb up over the ginormous mountain in front of them. That's what I like life to be like. One by one, my little "ducks" -- events, people, decisions, whatever -- all overcome the obstacle in front of them. Perfectly in a row. Not going, "HEY what's that over there?" and running out of line to dance in the middle of the street. No. My ducks stay in a row, by golly, and if they don't, then I'm not a happy camper.
However, most of the time, my ducks look a lot more like this:
And I'm like, "HEY! What are you doing? Aren't you all supposed to be in a row? You know, being cute and fluffy? I mean, not that you're not cute and fluffy still, but I want you in a ROW!! And YOOOOOOU! BIG DUCK!! What is the meaning of this? Aren't you supposed to keep them all perfectly ordered for me??"
Jesus has been teaching me a lot about not needing all my ducks to be in a row.
"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience..."
There's nothing wrong with having a plan. There's nothing wrong with knowing exactly what we're going to do, when we're going to do it, and what's going to come of it. After all, many, many times in the Bible, God not only told His people what to say, but He told them what would be said in response to their message!
But we are supposed to be like Christ; and Christ was unruffled when His evening's plans were interrupted. When Jesus' dear friend John the Baptist died, Jesus "withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place." I can only imagine He wanted some time to process His grief. He wanted to be by Himself, in order to talk with His Father and mourn for His beloved friend.
But being Jesus, He wasn't left alone long. People followed Him. I can imagine what my response would have been: "Are you people stupid? Can't you see I'm mourning here? This duck is no longer in line, and I need a little time to get it back where it's supposed to be, okay? I'll deal with you when I'm ready, just please, go away!!"
That's not what Jesus did. Jesus "had compassion on them and healed their sick." He didn't latch onto the nearest excuse to send them away to get their own food; He fed them (all five thousand -- and that was just the men). He loved them. He let the "duck" of His grief get out of the row, trusting that His Father would gently urge it back into line when the time was right.
Things don't always go the way we want them to. But it's in those moments that miracles occur.
Flexibility. A willingness to "go with the flow." That's what God has been impressing on my heart. He doesn't want life to be a list with everything laid out, everything familiar, nothing mysterious. "What need have we of a guide were the path a familiar one?" asked Elisabeth Elliot. Moments of uncertainty are when we look into our Guide's face and ask, "Where next, Daddy?" It is those moments when we experience intimacy and direction like never before.
My ducks aren't always in a row. But that's okay. They're still ducks. They're still cute and fluffy. They'll still get where they need to go.
It'll just be more of an adventure along the way.
I like life to look a lot like this:
AREN'T THEY CUTE?? They're so tiny and fuzzy and perfectly in a row, waiting for their turn to climb up over the ginormous mountain in front of them. That's what I like life to be like. One by one, my little "ducks" -- events, people, decisions, whatever -- all overcome the obstacle in front of them. Perfectly in a row. Not going, "HEY what's that over there?" and running out of line to dance in the middle of the street. No. My ducks stay in a row, by golly, and if they don't, then I'm not a happy camper.
However, most of the time, my ducks look a lot more like this:
And I'm like, "HEY! What are you doing? Aren't you all supposed to be in a row? You know, being cute and fluffy? I mean, not that you're not cute and fluffy still, but I want you in a ROW!! And YOOOOOOU! BIG DUCK!! What is the meaning of this? Aren't you supposed to keep them all perfectly ordered for me??"
Jesus has been teaching me a lot about not needing all my ducks to be in a row.
"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience..."
There's nothing wrong with having a plan. There's nothing wrong with knowing exactly what we're going to do, when we're going to do it, and what's going to come of it. After all, many, many times in the Bible, God not only told His people what to say, but He told them what would be said in response to their message!
But we are supposed to be like Christ; and Christ was unruffled when His evening's plans were interrupted. When Jesus' dear friend John the Baptist died, Jesus "withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place." I can only imagine He wanted some time to process His grief. He wanted to be by Himself, in order to talk with His Father and mourn for His beloved friend.
But being Jesus, He wasn't left alone long. People followed Him. I can imagine what my response would have been: "Are you people stupid? Can't you see I'm mourning here? This duck is no longer in line, and I need a little time to get it back where it's supposed to be, okay? I'll deal with you when I'm ready, just please, go away!!"
That's not what Jesus did. Jesus "had compassion on them and healed their sick." He didn't latch onto the nearest excuse to send them away to get their own food; He fed them (all five thousand -- and that was just the men). He loved them. He let the "duck" of His grief get out of the row, trusting that His Father would gently urge it back into line when the time was right.
Things don't always go the way we want them to. But it's in those moments that miracles occur.
Flexibility. A willingness to "go with the flow." That's what God has been impressing on my heart. He doesn't want life to be a list with everything laid out, everything familiar, nothing mysterious. "What need have we of a guide were the path a familiar one?" asked Elisabeth Elliot. Moments of uncertainty are when we look into our Guide's face and ask, "Where next, Daddy?" It is those moments when we experience intimacy and direction like never before.
My ducks aren't always in a row. But that's okay. They're still ducks. They're still cute and fluffy. They'll still get where they need to go.
It'll just be more of an adventure along the way.
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